


the miles of your affection

by beanpod



Series: junkyard [2]
Category: 2PM (Band)
Genre: M/M, Military leave, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-24 21:22:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22324612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanpod/pseuds/beanpod
Summary: But Chansung just says, “Hey, no, don’t mind me, I’m just gonna lug this up to the kitchen and put everything away while you laze around over there,” and proceeds to do just that, leaving Junho on the couch feeling strangely bereft.
Relationships: Hwang Chansung/Lee Junho
Series: junkyard [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012623
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	the miles of your affection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chan_to_the_ho (curseofpandora)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/curseofpandora/gifts).



> started off as means to reunion sex, but lost the vibe half-way through mainly because i had a lot of emotions. the porny bits, although rough, may get posted later.
> 
> for my number one enabler soph <3

It takes a shitload of ass-kissing. Ass-kissing Junho hates to partake in but it has to be done. It _has_ to. He’s sure he isn’t committing any crimes (yet) so he’s got that going for himself, too, at least.

Jungshin, a guy in his quarters, says that if it works out for Junho, he might try it, too, might throw in an extra bargaining chip because his dad is a politician. Junho very pointedly explains why _that_ really would be illegal and then promises to buy Jungshin a pint next weekend. Makes Jungshin harrumph in response, but at least his mind has left off any illegal pursues and Junho’s going to take that as a win.

Staff Sergeant Shim gives him a long look as Junho signs the leave form. He says, “You know, I heard a funny story the other day,” and Junho waits for him to continue with bated breath.

When he doesn’t Junho says, “Did you now, sir.”

Shim’s lips twitch. “Guess you’ll have to wait till Sunday night, Lee. Have a nice weekend.”

Junho rolls his eyes, grabs his stuff and honestly hauls ass before Shim changes his mind.

+

Junho clutches at the dash. “Minhye, for the last time, _slow down_.”

Minhye cackles. “Oh, brother, the army has made you soft.”

“I would really like to make it to mom’s in one piece, please.” Junho wrinkles his nose even as Minhye cackles again. “Where did you find my car keys anyway? I gave them to dad for safe-keeping. This doesn’t feel safe, at all.”

She grins. “I’m his only daughter, Junho. I didn’t even have to try really hard.”

“You’re a menace,” Junho mutters. “At least tell me no one’s touched my bike.”

She smiles sweetly and pats his knee. “Don’t be cranky, baby brother, you’ll get to see your boyfriend soon.”

Junho’s heart does this weird flip in his chest. It tugs all the way down, even hurts a little on his next exhale. “Shut up,” he manages to say, and Minhye’s smile turns a little gentler, softer. They’re at a red light and she turns a little in the seat and Junho very much _doesn’t_ want to be under her scrutiny like this, in a small space and with nowhere to go.

“Don’t give me that look,” Junho says, shaking his head. “Can’t take it, not from you.”

She’s quiet for a moment and then the light changes, and with it her expression does, too. “Why is our mother still under the impression you like cabbage? She’s got a shitload of plates made for lunch with the stuff.”

Junho relaxes a little, shrugs. “Haven’t been able to convince her since I was eleven, doubt she’ll start listening now. Besides, it’s good for you. I think. Whatever.”

“Yeah,” she snorts, making a turn one handed. Junho taught her that. “Very convincing.”

+

True to Minhye’s word, mom’s gone all out on the cabbage. Junho lets her fuss over him for a while and lets his dad ask all the questions he wants until it’s time to eat and then they’re all at the table, even Minhye’s husband, who so far’s been the only one to let Junho off the questioning track.

They have lunch and mom fills him in on local gossip, which includes getting together with the guys’s moms _and Taecyeon_ for tea a couple of days ago. “Right before Nichkhun stole him for golf,” she says with a fond smile, and then adds, “Oh, Chansung’s mom said he has this weekend off, too, honey, are you gonna be seeing him?”

Junho’s a pro at handling situations under pressure now. He shrugs and puts heart, mind and soul into ignoring Minhye’s heavy, _knowing_ stare. “Yeah, probably. I don’t know, haven’t asked what he’ll be doing.”

It’s an outright lie, but he can’t tell his mom _He might be doing me, most likely_. That’s just not okay. They’re at the table, too, come on.

Minhye snorts across the table and Junho smiles up at her, shoving a plate of cabbage wraps nearer her. “Try these, noona, they’re your favorites.”

She purses her lips and holds his gaze while she takes a bite of a wrap. Still feels like a win, though.

+

Chansung texts him as they’re all finishing with dessert, sends _why are our mothers such gossip junkies junho my mom just told me they even videoconference w khuns mom every other weekend wtf who even videoconferences anymore_

Junho slants a look at his mother. “You FaceTime with Khun’s mom?”

“Every once in a while,” she says, nodding. “We all keep tabs on you kids. We have a chat room, too. We exchange baby pictures. Wooyoung’s mom has us all beat, I don’t have that many pics of you, sadly.”

“‘Cause he was ugly,” Minhye pipes in with a shit-eating grin.

Junho makes an affronted noise, “I was a beautiful baby, I’ll have you know.” His phone vibrates again and Junho reads _WHY ARE OUR MOTHERS EXCHANGING NAKED BABY PICS OF US JUNHO STOP THIS MADNESS_

“Mom, why are you guys exchanging naked baby pics of us?” Junho asks calmly.

Minhye snorts around a spoonful of ice cream, it goes flying everywhere, even gets on her hair. Junho throws her a napkin while their dad tries to ineffectively wipe the table top with a piece of soggy cabbage.

“Who ratted us out? Was it Chansung’s mom? I told her secrecy was key.” His mom clucks her tongue.

He sends _okay I think I’m done with lunch, wanna meet up?_ to Chansung and it’s five seconds until the reply comes in, _yes please meet you at your place in 30 good thing i still have a key_.

 _Yeah, good thing_ , Junho thinks and rolls his eyes at Minhye, “Oh my god, stop getting ice cream everywhere, woman, just go take a shower!”

+

The cats are staying at Minhye’s regularly now so the place feels rather empty when Junho walks in and doesn’t hear the pit-patter of tiny claws on the floor. He drops his bag by the shoe closet and decides to forget all about it until tomorrow morning so he can do one load of laundry instead of two.

It’s right now, as he shuffles to the couch, that he realizes it’s a hassle to have the kitchen up in the second floor because how the hell is he supposed to get a drink now that he’s on his very comfy couch. He should’ve headed straight to Chansung’s, at least his place is easier designed than his.

His face pressed to the tapestry, he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He says, “Siri, call Ugly,” and ten seconds later, Chansung’s voice filters through the speaker with a, “You want chocolate mint chip or just chocolate chip? Ooh, there’s chocolate and strawberry swirl, sounds like a diabetic coma but I’ll take my chances if you do, babe.”

Junho does his best to speak even if his face is half buried in the couch. “What happened to plain old chocolate?”

Chansung snorts. “Millennials happened, I guess.”

“Fine, get the diabetic coma. I’ll have the docs on speed dial.” He scratches at his belly, staring out ahead at the open space of his apartment. “Don’t forget the lube.”

“Literally the first item on my cart. It’s like you don’t even know me anymore, Lee Junho,” Chansung makes a harrumphing noise and Junho tries his hardest not to take the comment at heart. “I’ll be over in twenty minutes, that okay? Need anything else?”

“Just your ugly mug,” Junho murmurs, and smiles a little when Chansung cackles through the line.

“Love you, too, Junho,” he says, still laughing, and then, “I’ll see you soon.”

+

It takes Chansung thirty-two minutes to actually get there but it’s not like Junho’s counting. He lets himself in and is noisy about it, too, because it looks like he’s holding half a store in those bags and he’s carrying everything by himself, goddamn it, where’s Junho to give him a hand, half of this stuff is for him anyway.

Junho stares at him impassively from his spot on the couch, where he’s been for the past thirty-two, no, thirty-four minutes because Chansung’s limbs get in the way of him and his grocery bags _and his shoes_ and Junho just wants to yell at him to drop everything and just close the distance between them already.

But Chansung just says, “Hey, no, don’t mind me, I’m just gonna lug this up to the kitchen and put everything away while you laze around over there,” and proceeds to do just that, leaving Junho on the couch feeling strangely bereft.

Chansung’s noisy, he’s _loud_ , so fucking loud, and it makes Junho’s heart beat extra faster because he’s _missed_ that, the constant energy and presence of Chansung around him. If he weren’t so damn tired he’d run up the stairs just to kiss Chansung stupid, but good things are worth the wait. So Junho just lies there, comfy and warm—this is the sunny spot the cats like to hog to themselves, he remembers—and listens to Chansung exist in the same space as him for the first time in a rather long while.

Chansung talks to himself while he puts away the ice cream (“Three pints of it, too, you fucking asshole—you better finish it all off or I’m breaking up with you,”) and the beers (“Why do I even get this stuff if you’re a lightweight,”) and all the extra food (“I keep telling you, babe, we can’t ever go wrong with pizza buns,” and after a while, “Ah, I miss college,”) and Junho smiles into a throw pillow.

A couple of minutes after he’s put everything away he climbs down the stairs with a blanket and a fond smile on his ugly, stupid face and Junho’s heart lurches all the way up until it’s lodged between his goddamn tonsils.

“You cozy over there?” Chansung asks, walking closer, and _god_ , Junho’s missed him so fucking much. “Need a blanket?”

“Need you,” Junho says, rather calmly at that, never mind the fact his heart’s beating so fast he has trouble breathing, a little. Chansung’s face goes even fonder as he makes room for himself on the couch by pushing Junho’s knees away and sitting at the edge of it.

He gives Junho’s thigh a gentle squeeze and then throws the blanket haphazardly over him so it’s barely only covering his shoulders. “Hi,” he says, smiling down at Junho, his eyes crinkled and catching the sun a little, making it really hard for Junho to breathe correctly.

“Hi,” Junho says back, doesn’t know quite what else to say. He watches as Chansung carefully closes the distance between them, a hand on the pillow under Junho’s head and the other one braced on his own knee. He’s close enough now Junho can smell him, soap and shampoo and a bit of aftershave, all of it Chansung.

“ _Hi_.” Chansung kisses his forehead softly, and Junho reaches out to grab the front of his shirt automatically. “How was lunch with your parents?”

“Was good,” Junho mutters, and leans up just a little to press a kiss to the underside of Chansung’s jaw. “Until the baby pictures.”

Chansung huffs a laugh through his nose. “Ugh, we should feel so violated.”

Junho chuckles and lets Chansung go, lets him sit up while he remains mostly lying down and still burrowed into the couch. It’s a large couch, though, so Chansung could very well join him on it if he felt so inclined. Doesn’t look like he does, though, he just sits there and smiles at Junho like just seeing him is enough and _fuck_ , that thought does things to Junho, very warm things. He stares unabashedly back, smiling himself, and tries to find anything different in him. He doesn’t; there’s probably an extra wrinkle here or there but overall it’s the same Chansung he kissed goodbye months ago and whispered _Catch you on the other side_ to.

“Missed me that much, huh,” Chansung mocks, poking Junho in the ribs and making him flail. Considering Junho’s half-wrapped in a blanket and how close Chansung still is, the smack to the side of the head is truly deserved.

“Did not,” Junho huffs, untangling himself from the blanket of doom until he can sit up and cup the side of Chansung’s head. He pets him gently, _Sorry_ , and then adds, “Not one bit,” as he cards his fingers through Chansung’s hair.

Chansung’s lips curl a little and Junho zeroes in on them like a fucking life-line. “You filthy liar,” he mutters, and Junho laughs even as he pulls Chansung closer by the hair, laughs even as their lips touch and it’s fucking _electric_ , like every bit of skin lights up from his mouth outwards in small bouts, all of them timed with the tiny, chaste kisses Chansung drops on his lips.

While Junho’d been driving over earlier he’d thought they’d rip into each other the second they got eyes on one another. He’d thought they wouldn’t make it past the fucking threshold, had thought of Chansung on top of him right in the middle of the foyer, not even making it to the couch. He’d gotten half hard at the thought of it and there’s nothing as uncomfortable as driving with a hard-on, honestly.

Chansung kisses him softly once more and pulls back, peering at him. “You’re thinking too loudly. What’s wrong?”

Junho scratches a little behind Chansung’s ear, smiling sideways and shaking his head. “Nothing’s wrong.” He kisses the tip of Chansung’s nose and sits back, offers a corner of the blanket, “Come on, cuddles, lots of it. Tell me all about the past couple months.”

Chansung settles in with a grin and a, “Remember how we used to complain about having all six of us living in a two bedroom apartment? We had it _so good_ compared to this, Junho, _so good_ , God.”

+

Junho only realizes they must’ve drifted off at some point because he’s the first to wake up and Chansung’s snoring softly in his ear. He’s also most definitely drooling on Junho’s shoulder; Junho decides to find it cute only because the shirt he’s wearing is nothing special.

He stretches out a little—his right shoulder is slightly sore, God, he’s too old to be having naps in cramped spaces like this—and Chansung makes a huffing sound as he re-accommodates his messy limbs all over Junho’s.

“Time’s’it,” Chansung mumbles, and Junho hums.

“No fucking clue,” he mutters, nudging Chansung a little so he can roll over onto his side. “It’s so nice here, what the hell.”

“I’m a great cuddler,” Chansung hums, and seems very content with having that as his only argument. “You hungry? We can heat up those buns of yours, mm.”

Junho doesn’t mean to but he bursts out laughing, and for some reason, he can’t stop. He buries his face in Chansung’s chest and shakes with laughter while Chansung mutters “Jesus fuck, you’re broken, Lee Junho, what am I gonna do with you,” and pats his back and his sore shoulder and runs gentle fingers through his hair.

When he eventually calms down, Junho blinks up at him through teary eyes, still grinning. “You made it sound so dirty, you fucker.”

Chansung snorts; his eyes are still closed but his face is open into a lazy, sleepy smile, which means he’s still at least fifty percent gone. “T’was not dirty at all, you’re the filthy one.”

“Shut up,” Junho huffs, and pinches Chansung’s stomach, “I am hungry, though, so wake the hell up and let’s eat something.”

“God, you’re so high-maintenance,” Chansung whines, blinking his eyes open blearily and pouting. Junho leans up and kisses him quickly and then taps his forehead.

“Come on, the buns await.”

“Mhmm,” Chansung hums, and his hands find Junho’s ass even through the blanket half-wrapped between them, cups both palms around it and squeezes. Junho would be downright committing treason if he didn’t admit it makes his pulse race. “Yep, buns.”

“Stop groping me and feed me,” Junho says. He sounds oddly breathless, too, but whatever.

Chansung smiles up at him, waggles his stupid eyebrows. “I can do both, baby, I’m pretty good at multitaskin’, don’t you know?”

“You’re a menace to my health,” Junho complains, but there’s no real passion behind it as he settles more comfortably on top of Chansung. It’s awkward with the blanket still bunched between them a little, but Junho has learned to take his wins where he can and this? Chansung sleepy-eyed and sleepy-slow beneath him, his hand on Junho, firm and warm— this is a win in his book.

“I knew my dirty talk got you going,” Chansung grins, and his thighs spread open a little so Junho can fit in between them.

Junho rolls his eyes as he settles elbows at either side of Chansung’s head and leans in close. “Your dirty talk has never, ever worked, darling, we’ve talked about this. You’re shit at it.”

Chansung purses his lips. “You’re a menace to my ego.”

If Junho rolls his eyes any harder they’re gonna fall right off his face. “Like it needs any more stroking, you little shit.”

“You know what could use some stroking, though—”

“God, shut up,” Junho laughs, and leans down to kiss him quiet.

Junho had missed this. The closeness, the touching, the intimacy. It’s like a punch to the gut, having it all so quick and real in his hands, having Chansung pliant under him, his hands on him. They kiss for a while, until Junho feels flushed all over and Chansung’s gripping his lower back to keep him there. He’s got a feeling they might end up fucking right here if they don’t stop, and while appealing, Junho’s got a comfy, _wide_ bed upstairs for a reason.

He pulls back a little, drops a kiss on Chansung’s chin. “We should move this to the bed, we’re too old for couch sex.”

“ _You’re_ too old for couch sex,” Chansung harrumphs, grinning lazily, “I’m a young man, petal fresh and most definitely ready for some couch sex.”

Junho huffs a laugh and rests his forehead on Chansung’s chest. “I don’t even know why I put up with you.”

“We’re in love,” Chansung says, and when Junho lifts his face, he’s smiling that soft, small, sort-of-awkward smile of his. “Love makes you pretty stupid, too. Also, you’re on my bladder and I gotta pee.”

“Very romantic,” Junho deadpans, but rolls to the side anyway while Chansung gathers himself together and sits up, “no wonder I’m so in love with you.”

“Yes, I’m a delight,” Chansung nods, and runs for the stairs as Junho throws a pillow at him. He cackles all the way up the stairs and Junho lies back down, smiling at the ceiling and the faint glow of sunset spread all around him, feeling warmer than he has in months.

**Author's Note:**

> title's from "like you mean it" by ruelle.


End file.
